Behind the Scenes
by YunaMustang
Summary: A collection of one-shots featuring our beloved countries. Covers multiple pairings, ratings, genres, scenarios, really anything my active mind can create, or you- the reader- requests.
1. In Front of Everyone

**Terrible and boring title, I know. However! This will consist of multiple pairings and just love (or not) all around. If there is a certain pairing you want to see, a certain kink, a certain... WHATEVER go ahead and request it! I absolutely love all pairings of Hetalia and will write anything! If you want to request something, just go on ahead! Just as long as it's serious and not anything that's the product of you trolling. There's only so much I can create without becoming repetitive. So requests are extremely welcomed!**

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Pairing: UkUs

Rating: M

Title: In Front of Everyone

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"Alright, listen up!" America's voice boomed through the cramped and stuffy room, effectively quieting the voices that were mingling in the air; most of those voices had an irritated and angry edge to them.

Here they were- representatives of their beloved countries- forced to sit in a narrow room for _third_ time of their _weeklong_ meeting. Their normal meeting room was currently… flooded due to a _certain Italian_, so the G8 meeting was being held in a very narrow and small room… Not to mention it was in the middle of August in Italy and the temperature had been terribly hotter than usual for this time of year. Putting the eight members together in a small, hot room together could only spell disaster…

"Can we just call the meeting to an end?" France had shed his suit jacket and the first three buttons on his shirt were undone. His wrist was beginning to hurt from fanning himself, "We are all miserable, so let's just call it a day."

"_Nein_!" Germany had also taken his suit jacket off, but instead of unbuttoning his shirt he opted to rolling up his sleeves, "We will not get anything done if we end the meeting here. Nothing has been done in the first place!"

"Ve, Germany, I agree with Big Brother France."

All eyes turned to the Italian angrily as he had his head lying atop the table.

Canada spoke softly, voice quivering slightly as he struggled not to yell at the man, "Um… Not to be rude, but this _is_ your fault, Italy."

"Dude, you're totally right, but I have to agree with Germany on this one; We haven't gotten anything done these past three days."

"I agree with America." Japan spoke up for the first time since the meeting started.

America loosened his tie as he sat back down in his chair, "Now, onto the topic-"

"You're actually taking responsibility for once, America?" England scoffed, "You haven't taken responsibility for anything in your entire life. What brought on this _marvelous_ occasion?"

America simply glared at his former brother, parental figure, _whatever_ it was England had once been in his life and opened the file in front of him, "Okay, we-"

"Italy! Sit back down!"

"My gorgeous body should not have to endure such ugly heat."

"I wonder what the Baltics are doing…"

And once again, the small room was filled with angry and irritated voices arguing with each other. Sighing, America gave up. The blond rolled his sleeves up and propped his chin in his hands, casually looking between the bickering men. It was quite comical how they all ended up arguing over this reason or that the moment they were placed in the same room together. The American's blue eyes finally landed on England, and he was almost shocked when he saw the man's eyes were locked on his. Naturally he didn't let his shock show, instead he blankly stared back at the older man.

England carefully nodded his head towards the door, and the moment he was sure no one would notice, he slipped out of his chair and out the door.

America waited until he was absolutely positive no one would see him leave, then he dashed to the door- something about a hero running to someone's rescue going through his head. Once the American was out in the hall ready to track down England, something- _someone_ pushed him against the wall, and a pair of lips was pressed tightly to his own.

"Dude!" America brought his hands up and grabbed the sides of England's face, squishing in his cheeks, "What the hell?"

England tried to speak, but his words were horribly mushed together due to the American pressing his cheeks together. He smacked away the boy's hands and glared, "That hurt, sodding git."

"Well, it hurt me when you made that comment. So that's payback."

England huffed and switched their positions; now it was the shorter man with his back on the wall and the taller standing in front of him, "You created a certain problem for me, _Alfred_, and you better correct it."

A shiver of pleasure ran down the American's back and straight to his groin, "What would that be, _Arthur_?" His voice was much huskier than he had intended. A hardened member being ground into his thigh was his answer. His face turned red, "D-Dude! Why are you- I didn't even- W-What…?"

England looked up into America's eyes longingly, not bothering to hide his burning passion in those emerald depths, "It was pure torture seeing you take of your jacket, to see the droplets of sweat on your face, then when you loosened your tie- how did you manage to hide those hickeys, I wonder- I nearly lost it." The older man leaned up, bringing the American's head lower, before letting his smooth lips trace the shell of his ear before whispering, "I wanted you to take me right there on the table, in front of _everyone_."

America groaned and moved to kiss the teasing Englishman, however said Englishman simply chuckled and pushed the American's chest lightly, "I don't think so, Alfred. This is about _my _pleasure, not yours. You caused the problem, you fix it."

It was only a matter of seconds before the taller blonde was on his knees, pulling at the belt around England's waist, tearing open the button and zipper. A smirk played on his lips when he heard the man above him groan the moment his hand snaked the hard member out of the confines of the red boxers.

Blue eyes glanced up, the mischievous smirk still etched on his lips as he took England's cock deep in his mouth. A strong wave of smugness washed over him as he saw the _gentleman_ bite down on his knuckles to keep from shouting. No need to alert the others- who were literally a wall space away from them- of what they were doing.

There was no playful teasing of the tongue, gentle kisses and daring nips from the American like usual. He was bobbing his head quickly, taking England deeply into his throat, moaning softly around the cock in his mouth. The rush he felt at the possibility of someone finding them and those beautiful whimpers England was trying to hold back only spurred the younger man on.

"_Al_… _Oh_, _fuck_, _Al_…" England was panting against his hand. The hand trying to grip the wall flashed down and buried itself in sandy blond hair. His grip tightened and he jerked his hips forwards as America's tongue did this _oh so wonderful_ swirl over the head of his member. He threw his head back, wincing at the pain that coursed through his cranium at colliding with the wall. The pain didn't matter; he was so close, _so fucking close_.

"_Ah, ah_…_ Nnn_, _Al_… I'm so… I'm going to…"

America winced and grunted when England's other hand gripped his hair tightly, both hands pulling on his hair to get him to suck faster. He gagged slightly at one particular rough thrust from England. _Damn, he really is close..._ The younger blond noticed the older man's inner thighs were trembling; a clear sign he was holding back. America let the member slip from his lips, hand beginning to pump England to continue the stimulation, "Come on, Arthur. Don't hold back."

A strained cry left England's throat as America sucked just on the head, hand still pumping the length of him. _Bloody tease… Bloody git… I ought to- ah, fuck!_ "_Al_!"

England's hips were uncontrollable as his orgasm swept through him, his seed spilling right into America's mouth, the American's name leaving the older man's lips in a drawn out cry.

America- not expecting England to come so soon- held his head still as his lover's frantic thrusts slowly turned into languid thrusts. Without anywhere to spit England's 'essence of life,' America unenthusiastically swallowed. As he stood, he took in the appearance of the man he loved; England was panting, face still flushed, arms loosely hanging at his sides.

"Ve~! Germany, they were doing what we do!"

A cold chill ran through America and England, both slowly turning their heads in the direction of the door… the _open_ door… where six men stood looking at them…

America chuckled embarrassingly, "Well, you did say who you wanted me to do you on the table in front of _everyone_. So, this was close!"


	2. Danke

Pairing: Germany/Italy

Rating: ... M?

Title: _Danke_

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Italy was dragging himself along the trail, breath leaving him in labored pants and chest burning. The brunet kept pushing forwards though, even with the tears blurring his vision. Today was the day he was going to prove himself to Germany. Today was the day he'd finally get through training without crying, complaining, or quitting. He wanted to make Germany proud!

"Good job, Italy." Germany said as Italy finally finished his fifth lap. The taller man handed the smaller a bottle of water, a slight twist of guilt pulling at his stomach as he watched his friend gulp the water down as if his life depended on it.

Italy dropped the bottle once it was empty, still panting heavily, "Ve… Ger-Germany? Did I… do okay? Are you… proud of me?"

The twist of guilt turned into a sharp stab, "_Ja, Italien_." His heavy hand rested on the smaller man's shoulder, "Why don't we go in and I'll make you some pasta, _ja_?"

Italy's face brightened up and he latched himself onto Germany in a tight hug, "Pasta!"

*.*

Humming echoed quietly in the spacious bathroom. The scent of fruit wafted through the air. The gentle sound of water being splashed sounded like the calmest sound at the moment. Germany stood outside the bathroom door, listening to Italy's gentle humming and the splashing of water as he played around in the tub. The smell of a fruit orchard slid past the open door and wrapped around Germany, reminding the man of the hug Italy had given him earlier.

The longing the German felt for his friend had burned within him for so long. He had denied it at first, telling himself that men do not have such feelings for other men… At least that's what had been pounded into his head nearly all his life. The feelings had scared him at first, but over time he came to accept them, and he buried them deeply into his heart. He didn't want anything to ruin the bond between the two of them, and with Italy flirting with any beautiful girl that walked by him… there was no way he'd ever be interested in the manly German. That's how Germany thought and felt… until the night Italy woke in the middle of the night, crying from a nightmare where Germany and he weren't friends anymore. Germany had awkwardly comforted the crying (and naked) Italy until he settled down. Italy had wanted Germany to prove he'd never leave him alone… so the German did the only thing he could think of; He kissed Italy. Italy had kissed back. They spent the rest of that night clinging to each other and crying out in passion as they made love until the sun began to rise.

Germany sighed softly, wanting to stay outside the door a little longer to listen in on the man he loved, but he knew the pasta was getting cold. A loud thump and miserable whimper caused the German to rush into the bathroom "Feliciano?!"

Italy was sprawled on the tile floor, a puddle of water beneath him. He whimpered again, tears spilling from his eyes, "Ludwig…"

Germany's heart sped up at the sound of his true name, reminding him how Italy had been whimpering his name the previous night as they indulged in Germany's darker side. _Now isn't the time for that!_ He knelt down beside the crying Italian and gently pulled him up, "What happened?"

Italy sniffed and wiped his cheek, "I wanted more bubbles in the bath, but the soap was empty, so I got up to get another one… and I slipped and fell."

Looking at the crying man, Germany could see a lump forming on the side of his head and a nasty bruise already coloring his knee. Germany sighed, "What am I going to do with you, Feli?"

"Kiss it better?" Italy pouted as his teary eyes looked into Germany's.

Again, Germany's heart began to beat faster as images of a tied up and pouting Italy flashed through his mind, but the disciplined man shook the images away and leaned down to let his lips barely touch the coloring knot on the Italian's head. He pulled away once he heard the man below him sob softly, "I'll get you some ice. Let's at least get you dried off and in bed."

"What about the pasta?" Italy grabbed Germany's shoulders as the taller man stood, pulling Italy up with him. However, Italy gave out a pained cry and dropped all of his weight onto Germany, the tears spilling from his eyes once more.

Panicked, Germany wrapped his arms around Italy, "What? What is it?"

"My ankle…" The brunet whimpered.

Germany looked at the crying man in his arms and sighed, _Why do I love him?_ Scooping the crying Italian into his arms, Germany began walking to his bedroom. During the short walk he was struggling to ignore the fact that he had a naked Feliciano in his arms and kept telling himself his precious, fragile little Feli was hurt. Laying Italy on the bed, Germany stepped back, "I'll get some ice."

Germany was quick to go to the kitchen and bring back two bags of ice wrapped in hand towels. He placed the bags on the end of the bed and grabbed a shirt out of one his drawers, "Can you sit up?"

Italy shook his head, "_Non posso_…"

Sighing, the German walked back to the fragile man on the bed and sat beside him. He gently sat Italy up, letting the brunet lean against his body as he carefully slid the shirt onto the smaller frame. Luckily for the German, his shirt was large enough that it reached down to Italy's thighs. He gently laid the Italian back down on the bed and placed one of the ice bags on his ankle, holding the other to the blackened knot on his forehead.

"Ve, Ludwig?"

"_Ja_, Feli?"

The smaller man was quiet for a while, and just when Germany was going to ask him again, Italy spoke in a very soft voice, "_Danke_."

Germany's blue eyes looked up at Italy's face, expecting to see his eyes closed: Wide brown eyes were open and looking at Germany, something calm and gentle swirling in their depths; _love_.

It wasn't often Italy would speak Germany's native tongue, and most of the time he did he was playing around and couldn't pronounce the words right. This though…

Germany was at a loss for words.

The two were swallowed by silence once more. After a while Germany was sure Italy had fallen asleep. _Guess the pasta will just be tomorrow's dinner._

"Ve, Ludwig?"

Germany glanced at Italy, a bit startled that he was still awake, "_Ja_?"

A light blush tinted the burnet's cheeks as he looked into Germany's eyes, "… I love you."

Germany flushed and the bag of ice slipped from his fingers, causing all the pressure of the ice to fall onto the bruised knot on Italy's forehead. When Italy's cry snapped him out of his shock, Germany was sputtering an apology as he lifted the bag. It's not like he hadn't heard those three words from Italy before. It was just… every time they always caught him off guard. Once he had himself collected again- though the blush was still on his face- he cleared his throat, "Feliciano, you-"

A small, tan hand grabbed his large, pale one and held it tightly, "Ludwig. I love you. You help me whenever I hurt myself. You're always there even though all I do is mess up. I was so happy that I was able to finish training today; all I wanted to do was make you proud, and I did! I love you, Ludwig. I love you." Italy smiled brightly, but that smile wavered soon after, "… I'm sorry I messed up again an hurt myself.

Germany sighed and shook his head, "Don't be, Feli." Standing, he laid the ice bag beside Italy if he wanted to use it, "I'm going to go put dinner away."

"No, no! I want pasta! Ow…"

Germany couldn't help but smile as he watched Italy sit straight up, only to fall back down on the pillows. His little Italy… His little Feliciano… "Alright. I'll bring you some pasta."

"Pasta!" Italy threw his arms in the air and kicked his non-injured leg up in the air.

Germany began walking out of the bedroom, but stopped at the door, "Feli?"

"Ve?"

"… I love you, too."

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**To 'mysterious fan'

... I guess I shouldn't have said as far fetched as anything... Because I don't think I'd be able to write your... 'request.' It's mainly because I have hard time believing it is an actual request and simply you being a troll. So uh, sorry.

Anyone who wants to make a request, please don't a dick. It's just annoying and you're only embarrassing yourself. I'd love to take requests... but be serious about it. Okay?**


	3. Vicious Cycle

Pairing: FrUk/UsUk

Rating: M

Title: Vicious Cycle

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"Yo! Arthur!"

_Bloody hell_…

Arthur stopped walking and turned to his '_best friend_' walking towards him. The loud, obnoxious American just couldn't leave him alone for one day, could he? "What is it this time, Al? I'm going to be late for class."

Alfred laughed, drawing the attention of some of the students walking in the hall, "Dude, we have the same class. No worries." He threw his arm around Arthur's shoulders, "Why didn't you come to my room last night?"

Rolling his eyes, the Brit shrugged his friend's arm away, "I was with Francis last night."

"Oh… That's cool." Arthur didn't see the way Alfred's blue eyes lost a bit of shine.

_Of course he was with Francis. They _are_ dating, after all… Jeez, how sick am I? In love with my best friend who has a boyfriend of almost four years…_ Alfred sighed and picked his pace up- having fallen behind his British friend during his moping, "What about tonight? Mattie is still sick in the infirmary, so I'm all alone!"

"Fine, fine." Arthur waved his hand in the air, "It might be later because Francis said something about needing help with his English term paper."

Alfred scowled as Arthur mentioned _Francis_ again. He really couldn't stand that Frenchman. Not only had he been the reason why Arthur wouldn't even look at him any other way than as a friend, but he had _cheated_ on Arthur with Matthew, Alfred's own brother! It wasn't as much as cheating as it was almost rape. That fucking Frenchman had forced himself on the soft-spoken boy whilst they were working on a project, and was only stopped by Alfred walking into his and his brother's dorm room. Why Arthur was still with the sick pervert, Alfred didn't know, nor would he ever understand.

"Oi, you listening to me?"

"Hm? Oh, sorry. I was thinking about how I can sneak off campus to get Mattie some maple syrup." Alfred forced a smile, cleverly tricking Arthur.

"The things you do for your brother…" Arthur smiled, "I asked you if you understood the lecture in our communications class. You looked like you were sleeping all the way through it."

"Dude, that's because I was."

Arthur sighed and shook his head, "You'll never graduate if you keep acting like this, Al." They walked into their next class- Government- and sat down at their seats. "Is it because you are having trouble understanding? Because if you are I can help you."

"No, dude, it's because I-" _Wait, if I tell him I'm having trouble he'll tutor me. Meaning he'll be with me instead of Francis! _"I mean… It's embarrassing…" Alfred sheepishly looked away from Arthur, hoping his plan would work.

"So you _are_ having trouble. Al, you know you don't have to be ashamed of that. You know I'll help you. In fact, I'll tell Francis I'll help him this weekend. We have an exam tomorrow in Communications, and you're going to need to focus tonight so you can pass it."

_Yes!_ Alfred internally jumped and shouted with joy; Arthur would be spending time with _him_ tonight, not Francis.

Class came and went, much like all the other classes at World Academy W. However, this one seemed to go by a bit slower. Alfred's mind was locked onto thoughts of Arthur. They had been best friends since they were little, basically, growing up practically as brothers. It wasn't until his early teens that Alfred started to feel _something_ for his best friend. He had confided in his younger brother, who simply told him to tell Arthur how he felt. Afraid of being laughed at, Alfred never told Arthur how he felt. Arthur started dating Francis when he was thirteen- Francis being fourteen- and the two had been together ever since. That doesn't mean their relationship has been a happy one, though. Too many times Arthur would come crying to Alfred about something Francis had done. Whether it be cheating on him with someone or just a slip up of the tongue, Francis was always hurting Arthur… and it hurt Alfred to see Arthur hurting. One night when Arthur had come to Alfred's dorm room- having previously seen Francis flirting with the innocent and definitely taken Italian boy named Feliciano- Alfred just couldn't take sitting idly by anymore. Something within him snapped, and he had Arthur pinned down to his bed, mouth devouring his best friend's mouth. The feelings he had been holding back for years finally came pouring out of him, in the kiss and the words he whispered into the Brit's ear. Even now, the words he had whispered were still echoing in his ears; _I can make you happy. I can love you properly. I'll never cheat on you. I'll love only you. I'll be yours fully, and you'll be mine. We can be happy._

Alfred would give up everything and anything to see Arthur happy. He wanted nothing more than for the boy he loved to be happy, and he wanted to be the one to make him happy. He would never hurt Arthur, never betray him. He may be an obnoxious goof, but when it came to Arthur…

"Al?"

Alfred looked up, blushing as he saw Arthur staring down at him. Looking around, he saw the other students getting up and gathering their things to leave.

"_Bonjour, mon petit ange_."

Alfred's eyebrows furrowed as he heard Francis, saw him walking up to Arthur. He shot up, laughing loudly, "Sorry, dude! I guess I didn't pay attention in class again."

Arthur sighed as Alfred laughed loudly, "Al…" The blond jumped as his boyfriend's arms snaked around his waist; erotic French words were whispered hotly into his ear. Alfred watched as his best friend's face turned red at whatever words Francis was whispering to him. After composing him, the shorter blond smiled apologetically at Alfred, "I'll see you later tonight, Al. Around... seven?"

"Yeah, sure." Alfred watched the _happy couple_ walk out of the classroom. Sighing, he picked up his bag to leave.

"Why are they still together? Everyone knows all they do is fight."

Alfred looked up as the reserved Japanese boy as he walked over to him. The American simply shrugged, "He's happy, I guess."

"You aren't happy." Kiku said.

Alfred chuckled at his friend, "As long as he's happy, I'm happy."

Kiku smiled, "You may say that, but we both know that's not true. How about we eat outside today for lunch?"

*.*

After lunch, Alfred retired back to his room and spent the rest of his time playing video games. He didn't have any classes after lunch, so he always spent the time playing his games. Without Matthew it was quiet, and a bit boring, but Arthur would be there around seven. All he had to do was just wait. Maybe if Arthur walked in seeing him playing his video games, he'd get all mad. _He's so cute when he's mad…_

Time flew by quickly, because Alfred was completely startled when the door to his room slammed open. "Whoa! Dude! You- … Arthur?"

Arthur was standing in the doorway, tears falling down his cheeks, looking utterly brokenhearted. Alfred was quick to his feet, rushing over and pulling his crying friend into his arms. He discreetly shut the door and let his friend, the one he loved, cry into his chest, all the while whispering soothingly to him and rubbing his back. After the sobs and whimpers were mere hiccups, Alfred led Arthur to his bed and sat down, "What happened?"

"He... I was in the library with Wang, and once we were done studying I… I went back to mine and Francis' room… but he-he…" Arthur started crying again, burying his face into Alfred's neck. Arthur wrapped his arms around Alfred, "He was shagging Antonio!" The Brit sobbed and completely broke down.

"Arthur…" Alfred was completely shocked. Everyone _knew_ Antonio and Lovino were together, the damn Spaniard was completely smitten with the foul-mouthed Italian. For him to be sleeping with Francis… to be cheating on Lovino…

"I'm done, Al. I'm done!" Arthur pulled away, sniffling, "I don't want to even look at him anymore. It's over." Arthur sniffed once more as Alfred wiped his cheeks, letting his fingers caress his skin for a moment before cupping his cheeks gently. Arthur looked into Alfred's eyes, "Al… I've always known. I've always known the right person was beside me the entire time… I just wanted to force myself to think it was Francis."

Alfred sighed softly as Arthur leaned in closer, "Artie-"

"You were always there. I came to you crying, and you were always there. I never thought about how you felt when I came crying to you. It must have been hard for you…" The flow of his tears had stopped, his quivering voice was now under control. Arthur's breath was warm against Alfred's lips, "Al… Alfred…"

"Artie, don't-" Alfred was cut off once again, only this time I wasn't Arthur's words that stopped him; it was Arthur's lips.

Arthur took control of the kiss, snaking his tongue in between Alfred's lips and coaxing Alfred's to play. The American groaned as he kissed back, his hands tangling themselves in Arthur's blond hair. The kiss was desperate, hot, needy. Arthur's moans were swallowed by Alfred's mouth as he took control of the kiss, soon he had Arthur's smaller body pressed between the bed and himself. When Alfred pulled away, he looked down at Arthur's flushed face, hardening at the sight of his mouth open, a trail of saliva slipping down his jaw to his ear.

"Al… Al…" Arthur was panting. He brought his arms up and pulled Alfred down for another kiss, whimpering into the American's mouth as he pressed his hips up into Alfred's.

The two began grinding their hips together, lips becoming less attentive as their arousals were stimulated through the layers of clothing. Alfred groaned and dropped his mouth to Arthur's neck, kissing and licking and biting and sucking the pale skin. Arthur arched his neck, moaning and panting.

Alfred stopped moving his hips, grabbing the smaller boy's hips to stop them as well. He smirked at the whine that left his friend's- no, his _lover's_ lips, and began stripping the boy beneath him of his clothes, only stopping once he was left in his boxer-briefs.

Blushing, Arthur sat up and pushed Alfred back on the bed, straddling the taller boy once he was lying down. He pulled off Alfred's shirt, blushing as he looked along his body- now clad in only boxers. The Brit littered the American's neck, chest, and stomach with open-mouthed kisses and a few bites here and there. Feeling bold, he pulled down Alfred's alien patterned boxers and began peppering his inner thigh with kisses whilst one hand traced patterns on the other.

"Ah… Artie…"

Alfred looked down to see Arthur staring up at him; green eyes locked on blue as Arthur shyly, slowly, took the head of Alfred's member into his mouth. Alfred's breath was leaving him in pants now; all thoughts of _this is wrong_ or _it's too soon for us to do this_ or anything of that nature were completely banished from his mind. His fingers laced through silky blond hair, giving Arthur a bit of encouragement as he took him deeper into his mouth. He was lost in the feeling of being in Arthur's mouth. It felt _so good_.

Arthur pulled away from Alfred's cock, sitting up and looking around, "Where's your lotion?"

Alfred snapped out of his pleasure daze and pointed to the bedside table in between his bed and Matthew's. He watched as Arthur opened the first drawer, pulling out a bottle of lotion. Alfred propped himself up on the pillows and watched as Arthur slid his boxer-briefs off, covered his fingers in the lotion, and slid them in between his legs. Alfred watched as one finger disappeared, then another, and another. His hand gripped his aching cock and stroked slowly as he watched Arthur rock against his own fingers, moaning and crying out Alfred's name as he stretched himself.

Arthur shuddered as he pulled his fingers out of his widened hole and laid back on Alfred's bed, spreading his legs and looking into Alfred's eyes, "Al… I need you…"

He didn't need to be told twice. Quickly pumping himself with a lotion covered hand, Alfred aligned himself with Arthur, thrusting in rather roughly and groaning at the sheer tightness around him, "_Fuck, Artie…_"

"_A-Al_!" Arthur was gripping the pillow beneath him; pain and pleasure coursing through his body. He nearly screamed as Alfred- impatient as ever- withdrew almost completely then thrust back in roughly. His body rocked due to the power behind Alfred's thrusts. The pain was quickly disappearing and being replaced by pure pleasure. He was moaning, crying out, not caring if someone could hear them.

Alfred was grunting and groaning like some kind of animal in heat. His eyes were trained on Arthur's face, watching the way the Brit's mouth was wide open as erotic sounds erupted from his lips, the way his eyes would clench only to open and lock with Alfred's. He was such a beautiful sight…

The American slowed his thrusts, and gently pulled Arthur up. He laid down, smirking up at Arthur as the smaller blond now straddled him. Arthur gave his lover a sultry smirk before rising and falling down onto Alfred's hard member, crying out as his prostate was slammed. Keeping his hips in the same angle, Arthur kept rising and falling on top of Alfred, crying out with each fall.

Alfred's grip on the Brit's hips was bruising, his thrusts equally bruising. This was pure bliss for the both of them. "_Ah… fuck_!" Alfred threw his head back on the pillows as he felt himself nearing his end.

Seeing the way the American's abs began clenching, Alfred's pace became frantic; wanting to reach that end with his lover. Soon the two were screaming out each other's names, panting and writhing against the each other as they rode out their orgasms. Arthur fell on top of Alfred, falling asleep before he was able to get his breathing stable.

Alfred chuckled and held Arthur tightly in his arms, not even caring about the mess in his bed and between their stomachs as he fell asleep.

*.*

The next day, Alfred and Arthur walked to their first class together. Once there, Arthur sat down beside Francis, and Alfred sat on Arthur's other side. Once class was over, Arthur and Francis left together, holding hands and kissing. Alfred sighed as he watched them go.

It was a vicious cycle they were trapped in. Francis loved Arthur, Arthur loved Francis, and Alfred loved Arthur. Francis would cheat on Arthur, Arthur would run to Alfred, and Alfred would comfort Arthur. In a way, Alfred was using Arthur for his own gratification. He should've stopped it the first time it happened- the first time they had sex. He should've told Arthur he was done always being there for him when Francis fucked up. However, he kept staying by Arthur's side, _knowing_ Francis was going to fuck up and Arthur would come running to him. It was all so twisted and sick… Alfred wanted to break the cycle, to finally tell Arthur he was done just being a shag… but when he sees Arthur's smiling face… he can't turn the boy he loves away, even if it means he keeps hurting himself in the process…


	4. Just Enough

**This is for AnimeApprentice! I hope I did this pairing justice and you like this!**

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Pairing: PruCan

Rating: T

Title: Just Enough

* * *

It was Alfred's brilliant idea to go out to the bar after the twelve hour long meeting.

It was Alfred's brilliant idea to keep buying everyone drinks.

It was Alfred's brilliant idea to force his brother to go on stage and sing karaoke.

Everything was all Al's fault!

All those little things that Alfred had _forced_ Matthew to do added up, subsequently leading to the Canadian's current predicament; Barefoot, drunk, hungry, and _hopelessly lost_.

The poor blond had gotten separated from the group after _Alfred_ got them kicked out of the bar. Since they were all heading to the same hotel- Ludwig being the leader since he held his liquor _much_ better than the others- it would be stupid to not walk back together… however… leave it to the invisible Canadian to take a wrong turn down a dark alley…

After nearly an hour of wandering aimlessly in the streets of the Lower East Side, trying to recognize unfamiliar streets and buildings and sober up, Mattie whimpered quietly and pressed his back against the brick wall of some building, "It's all Al's fault…" the Canadian began mumbling to himself, pouting down at the ground, "If he hadn't dragged me along, forced drinks down my throat, shoved me up on stage, gotten us kicked out… none of this would have happened!" He slid down the wall, pulling his legs to his chest once he was sitting on the filth covered ground, "They're at the hotel already… No one will be able to come find me…"

Eyes following a fat rat running along the opposite wall, Matthew came to the daunting conclusion that he wouldn't be able to find the hotel and thus would have to sleep in the streets for the remainder of the night- just like the dirty man sleeping under trashbags a little ways from him down the alley. He'd ask for directions in the morning- no use in hoping someone would come looking for him…

"I wish I had brought Kumajiro with me…"

The sound of a glass bottle rolling and a man cursing caught Matthew's attention. He figured it was just some homeless person or another lost, drunk idiot, but to be safe he curled into himself and closed his eyes, hoping his ability to be invisible to others would actually come in handy.

Seconds passed and Mattie was sure the staggering man- that is, if it really was a man- had either gone by already or walked by the alley. Still, he stayed in his 'hiding' position just to be sure.

"… Mattie? Is that you?"

Relief swam through Mattie, causing his head to shoot up "Gilbert!"

No sooner than the Canadian's violet eyes took in the sight of the German in front of him, he was on his feet and colliding with the man. Mattie nearly sobbed as he felt Gilbert's chest being pressed against his cheek, the warmth of his skin through the thin layer of his shirt instantly calming him.

"It's about time I found you! I've been going all over the city looking for you!"

"Sorry… Sorry." Matthew looked up, smiling brightly as he looked into Gilbert's red eyes. "I don't know what I was thinking…"

Gilbert laughed and ruffled Matthew's hair, "I found you, that's all that matters. But, of course I'd find you. I'm too awesome not to!"

A quiet giggle slipped past the Canadian's lips, a blush quickly covering his cheeks as Gilbert gave him a lingering peck on his cheek, "… Gil?"

The slightly taller man ignored the silent question in Matthew's voice, simply smiling and taking his hand to lead him in the right direction of the hotel.

*.*

"That was really embarrassing though…" Matthew sunk under the bubbles that surrounded him the tub, cheeks blazing red as Gilbert's laughter echoed in the bathroom.

"It was so funny, Mattie! All you needed was a tight red latex jumpsuit!"

"Th-That's not funny…"

A mischievous glint flashed in Gilbert's eyes, "Will you wear one for me, then?"

The Canadian's face flushed, and he dunked himself under the water. _How can he say something so embarrassing?!_

"Mattie!" Gilbert laughed, his arms diving under the water to bring his precious Canadian back to the surface. He leaned forwards, gently wiping some suds from Matthew's nose before placing a kiss there.

Matthew blushed and looked away. Even though they've been… _dating_ for a while now, he always felt so shy and embarrassed. "G-Gil…" Violet eyes slowly looked back up at the pale face slight inches away from his own, "…. Your sleeves are soaked now."

"I guess they are." Gilbert looked thoughtfully at his dripping sleeves. His shoulders shrugged as he looked back up at Mattie, "There's only one way to solve this."

"Put your shirt in the wash?"

Gilbert laughed loudly at his cute boyfriend and began stripping. His laughter boomed as he saw Matthew's face turn red once again before being hidden by the sudsy water. The boy really was sweet and cute. There was just something about the quiet, shy boy that Gilbert just _loved_.

He always had a soft spot for Matthew since the first day he met him. The blond seemed so surprised that Gilbert had noticed him, talked to him, that he actually started crying! From that day on, the two would sit together during meetings and would always spend their breaks together talking. The two of them would often finish off an entire bottle of maple syrup during their lunch break. They became good, close friends, and it wasn't until two years ago that Gilbert finally plucked up the courage to ask the adorable Canadian out on a date. Naturally, he had to get permission from Alfred first, but once the American interrogated him, he finally asked Matthew out to a movie and dinner. It was an awesome date, and it only made the German fall even more in love with Mattie.

Once the German was rid of his clothes, and slid into the tub, he smiled a bright smile as the blond resurfaced, "Come here, Mattie." Gilbert reached out to the Canadian and pulled the smaller boy towards him, until the blond was pressed tightly against his chest, "This is much better."

Mattie bit his lip, soon feeling his body relaxing back into the stronger body of his love. Things were still… awkward and embarrassing for him in their relationship, but it was moments like these that he absolutely cherished; when it was just the two of them, no worries about anyone around them or the pressure from their bosses… Just the two of them... _happy_.

"Mm… You're right." Mattie nuzzled his cheek against Gilbert's shoulder, a content smile spread across his lips as Gil's arms tightened around his waist and his lips pressed against the top of his head. Mattie tilted his head up, violet eyes waiting for red to look down. When Gilbert glanced down at the adorable boy in his arms, Mattie inched his head up for a kiss, whispering softly, "I love you, Gil."

Gilbert kissed Mattie's lips gently, "I love you too, Mattie."

Their lips touched again in a kiss. The kiss was languid, loving- not too passionate or rushed or deep. It was just enough for them; their lips moving together, tongues occasionally brushing, Gilbert's teeth nipping at Mattie's bottom lip playfully a few times. Something so sweet and playful, loving and affectionate was enough. It was just enough for them…


	5. Fragile

Pairing:GerIta

Rating: M (for language and suggestions)

Title: Fragile

* * *

"Feliciano, I told you time and time again that fucking potato bastard was no good! You just don't want to fucking listen! I knew something like this would happen, but no! You had to fucking ignore me like always. Are you fucking happy now?!"

The quivering Italian who was currently being yelled at by his older brother sobbed loudly and pressed his wet face into his brother's chest, getting more of his tears on the cotton fabric. He hiccupped and tried to stop sobbing long enough to force out an apology, "I-I'm… I'm sorry, Lovino. I-I-I…"

The older boy sighed and wrapped his arms around the Northern part of their shared country, "You'll get through this."

"B-But, Lovi…" Feliciano pulled away from his brother just enough to look up into his hazel eyes, "It isn't fair to judge him like I am… I mean Mussolini is doing such terrible things, and all we can do is watch as our country gets torn apart by the Allies and our military fall apart because nobody was really ready for this war…"

Lovino sighed, "It's only a matter of time before the Allies are successful in stopping all of this… When that happens, Germany will be forced to surrender."

The normal carefree light that always shone in Feliciano's eyes was shadowed, dulled by a cloud of anxiety, dread, and regret. His warm honey colored eyes were dull as he looked at his brother, tears beginning to form in those honey orbs for the umpteenth time that day. His voice- always so light and cheery- was broken as he spoke, "How didn't I know?"

Lovino held his brother tightly, not really sure what to say to the crying man in his arms. He had purposefully kept his brother in the dark about the things going on. He made sure Feliciano didn't know that there had been countless camps set up to torture and degrade those of different races, different religions, different cultures. Feliciano didn't know… Until recently…

"How did I go so long in this war- allying myself with him, supporting him- and _not_ know what he was doing? What he _is_ doing? I don't think I can forgive myself… I don't think I can forgive…"

A fresh wave of tears washed over the small Italian, and Lovino tried his best to comfort him; he remembered the ways Antonio had held him and sang to him those nights he had terrifying nightmares about being completely taken over by the bigger, stronger countries, forever being separated from his brother. In all honesty, Lovino prayed for this day to come; the day where Feliciano would finally realize what a terrible person Germany was. However… he didn't like the way it was brought on…

Feliciano remained in his brother's arms; the tears were hot against his skin, his breathing ragged due to his sobs and hiccups. It just hurt him too much to think that this was happening- the world was at war and falling apart- all because of the man who is…_ was_ his friend. No…

All because of the man he _loved_.

"… What would you do if Big Brother Toni did this?"

The way the younger's words barely fell from his lips in a hushed, broken mumble caused Lovino's heart to clench. They may not have gotten along when they were brought back together all those years ago, and sure they may even fight these days and he still held a slight grudge towards the younger Italian… but Lovino loved Feli and- like every other older brother- he was very protective of his fragile brother. He knew Feli had such a loving heart, always willing to see the good in everyone, but that open, loving heart was fragile. Very fragile. It didn't take much to cause the younger to cry or be hurt. Lovino liked to think he wasn't like that; his heart was solid rock, and he only ever showed his soft side to Feli. No matter how many times he forced himself to think that, he knew it wasn't true. There were two people in the world that have seen Lovino's soft, caring, _fragile_ side: Feliciano and Antonio.

That dumb, lazy Spaniard raised him once he and his brother were separated. Anotonio nourished and loved him, but only in the way an older brother would. Leave it to Lovino to fall for the airheaded man once he was older. Anotnio has done things to hurt Lovino- most of which were unintentional. However… if Anotonio were to _betray_ him as Ludwig has Feliciano… He'd probably be doing the same thing his little brother is doing now.

Feliciano pulled away from Lovino, his trembling hands rising to wipe away his tears, "I gave him everything I could offer. He was… He was my first in so many ways. My first best friend. My first love. My first… _lover_." A light blush dusted over Feliciano's cheeks as he looked away from his older brother, embarrassed, "I'll never get any of that back. I'll never be able to feel safe in his arms. I'll never be able to wake up before him and make him breakfast so we can cuddle and eat in bed. I'll never hear him yell at me when I don't do anything during our training. I'll never… I'll never…"

Lovino watched Feli, ready to wrap his arms around him if he started crying again. He was taken aback, however, when Feliciano suddenly stood up: Feli slapped away his tears and etched a determined look on his face. Lovino stood as well, "Feli? What is it?"

"I'm going to see Gilbert."

Lovino didn't have time to ask questions, to give his brother an incredulous look. Feliciano was out the door before Lovino could open his mouth. He was left standing there, staring at the spot his brother had currently been standing before running out the door. As he turned his eyes to the door, he wondered what caused the sudden change in Feliciano. Why did he want to see Gilbert, of all people? Even though he and Ludwig were brothers, they were currently two different countries; Germany and Prussia. Prussia may have been on Germany's side during this war, but why would Feliciano want to go see _him_?

*.*

"Gilbert!"

The front door to the small _Haus_ Gilbert had moved into at the beginning of the war gave way under Feliciano's hand easily. _Does he not lock his door?_ Feliciano thought briefly as he rushed in. The wafting smell of freshly brewed beer led him to where the white haired man was; up the stairs and into what appeared to be a small study.

At the sight of Feliciano's dishevelled and flustered appearance- or maybe it was just the sight of _Feliciano_- Gilbert was up on his feet, beer falling to the ground and spilling on the dusty wood floor, "Little Feli?! What the hell are you doing here?!"

His thick accent was so familiar it put Feliciano at ease… until he remembered the blond man who also shared the same thick accent. Shaking his head, the small Italian walked up to Gilbert. His small hands grabbed the rough fabric of the Prussian's shirt. His amber-honey eyes looked into alarmed red eyes, "_Please, _I need to why. _Why_ has he been doing this? _Why_ did he start this war? _Why_?!"

"Feli… Feli, calm down." The normally loud, borderline obnoxious voice that Gilbert spoke in had faded away to a quiet, concerned, and slightly confused voice. His large hands- hands that have killed and raped and robbed so many souls in this war, in all of time- gently grabbed the trembling hands of the Italian, and gently, _gently_ pulled them from his shirt.

Dealing with Feliciano was something he has done so much over the _so many_ years, but this… this was too much. When the war began, he never thought he'd be able to this again. How could he tell Little Feli that Ludwig started this war simply because he could? Because he needed to rid the world of Jews and gays and all those who oppose him or didn't think the same as him. How could he tell him it wasn't Hitler who started this, but _Ludwig_? It was Ludwig who put the thoughts into Hitler's head. Ludwig, the man they both loved, each in their own way. … How could he break Little Feli and then turn his back on the shattered pieces of the Italian?

"Let's get some fresh air, _ja_?" Gilbert walked over to a door Feliciano hadn't noticed before, and once he opened it Feli saw that it led out to a small balcony. From where he stood, he could see the meadow that was lain around the house; it was beautiful, even in these times of war. Gilbert looked down at the brunette and sighed, "Feli… You have to understand, this-"

"Tell me! _Why_ is this happening? _Why _is Ludwig killing so many people? _Why_-"

Gilbert was cornered with all of the questions- questions he knew the answers to all too clearly, but didn't want to answer. Even if he was in Prussia and not Germany during this war, he knew _everything_ his brother was doing…

"_Bruder, ist etwas passiert?_ I thought I heard yell-"

The air within the small, beer-reeking study froze as the tall, burly blond stepped into the room. If there were ever a time when the 'hell' people would refer to froze over… it would be now: The atmosphere in the room would freeze _anything_.

Icy blue eyes- as cold as the air within the room- stared at the small Italian standing in the middle of the room, standing in front of Gilbert. At first, those icy blue eyes- so full of tiredness and guilt, looking like they wanted to close and remain closed for the next thousand years- just stared at the small Italian, completely locked onto honey orbs that betrayed every emotion that was running through his head. What was he to say? He knew Italy only allied himself during this war because he wanted someone to protect him, wanted someone to ensure his country wouldn't fall like France had. The things he was doing- condoning the torture and killings of innocent men, women, children who led different lifestyles than him- would never be forgiven- he knew- especially by the little Italian who wanted nothing more than to take a siesta with all the countries and live in peace. Even though Feliciano's leader was doing the very same thing, Ludwig knew he would _never_ be forgiven for such heinous acts… and even knowing so, he couldn't stop. He had to purify his country, the continent, the _world_ of those humans whom were living such shameful lives, so why couldn't Feliciano see that? He was ameliorating this world so they could live toge- No. He couldn't think like that. He couldn't be a hypocrite by ridding the world of homosexuals when he himself was… No, no, _no_! He didn't view Feliciano that way, he just didn't!

… So why did a terrible, stabbing pain grow in his chest as he looked into those shattered, _betrayed_ eyes?

"Feliciano…"

The Italian visible flinched away from the German, even though a decent ten feet stood between them. His body started trembling, tears swam to his eyes. Feliciano was falling apart, and the German had only said one word to him.

"I'm sorry…"

The choked apology that came from Ludwig stunned Feliciano. Never has he heard Ludwig speak in such a vulnerable, broken way before. The man had hardly ever shown his emotions; the only times being when they were alone, twisted around each other as they screamed and screamed each other's names in blissful ecstasy and love. Ludwig's hardened face would soften as he held the brunette tenderly in his arms, their skin sticky with sweat and ejaculate but neither caring. The lips that formed angry, loud words would form quiet, passionate declarations of love… Hearing Ludwig holding back a sob, choking on his own voice as he apologized only caused the tears in Feliciano's eyes to fall.

"I'm so sorry…" The tears gathering in the German's eyes melted away the ice that froze their blue color.

Feliciano wanted nothing more than to rush into Ludwig's arms and tell him he forgave him and the things he has done, and that everything will be okay. But how could he? He couldn't forgive Ludwig and what he has done, nor will everything be okay, ever. Ludwig had ruined the one thing that meant the most to Feliciano. Ludwig had ruined their love. Ludwig had…

"You've ruined everything, Ludwig." Feliciano said, his voice shaking and breaking as he struggled to stay strong. "Nothing will ever be okay again." He turned away from Ludwig and stepped past Gilbert until he was outside n the balcony, standing in front of the railing. His lithe body stepped up onto the brown fencing, balancing on the thin fence. Tears fell from his honey eyes as they looked down at the nearly thirty feet that separated him from the ground below.

"Feli…?" Gilbert edged closer to the Italian, cautious and a little afraid of what the boy might do.

"Why did you have to do this, Ludwig? Why are you doing this? It's as if you don't want anyone to be there for you, to care for you. It's as if you want to punish the world because you can't sort out your own thoughts and feelings. … You've pushed me away." Feliciano watched as a harsh breeze pulled at the grass below, causing the thin, green blades to sway almost violently, "Even though I'm a country, and I can't die too easily… If I fall, I could very well get seriously hurt, or maybe even get closer to death. We as countries don't realize how fragile life is, because we don't experience everything humans do. But it's times like these that makes us see just how precious and fragile life can be. Even though we're strong one day… it all can be torn away from us, it all can just vanish within a second. Everything can be gone and over in a second… There were two countries I've known that have lost everything within seconds; Grandpa Rome and… and Holy Roman Empire. They wanted too much. They wanted everything… and in the end they vanished. Why haven't you realized that everything can be taken from you tomorrow? Why haven't you realized that… that you… You've ruined something special…"

Feliciano's eyes strayed from the grass below to the setting sun as it began to dip behind the horizon line. Taking in a deep breath, the Italian turned and stepped down from the railing. His shoulder brushed past Gilbert as he began to walk away from the brothers.

"Feliciano…"

He kept walking, ignoring the German man as he reached the door to go back into the study. As his foot barely passed the threshold, he heard that accented voice that could make him do anything speak again.

"I didn't know what to do. I was confused… I-I was scared." That strong voice had crumbled away, leaving behind an unsure, choking voice that Feliciano never wanted to hear again.

"You don't get scared: You're Germany." Feliciano walked into the room so he could leave the house altogether. The sooner he left, the sooner he could start to heal from this, and if he looked back at Lud-… at _Germany_ he knew he wouldn't be able to.

"Feli! Feliciano!"

The door closed behind the Italian, and he broke out in a run as he fled down the stairs and out the house. The tears fell from his eyes, stained his face as he continued running. Everything was over now. Their relationship completely ruined. Never again will Feliciano be able to fall asleep in Ludwig's arms as he read German novels and poems to him. Never again will Feliciano be able to pry Ludwig away from his work so they could share a nice dinner that he had cooked. Never again will Feliciano be able to hear Ludwig scolding him for slacking off during their training. Never again will Feliciano be able to shudder and cry out in pleasure as Ludwig touched him, kissed him, buried himself deep within him. Never again…

Feliciano should have realized that- much like the countries they live for- the love between him and Ludwig was fragile, could vanish within seconds.

**I hope you guys had a wonderful Hetalia Day! I know I did. I wanted to try and get this out by Saturday night, but couldn't. Anyways, don't forget to send in requests if you have them! I'm still working on a few because they are tripping me up a bit. But yeah! If you want to see something in this, just let me know!**


	6. Welcome Home

Pairing: GerIta

Rating: M

Title: Welcome Home

* * *

He didn't want to wake up…

No… it was too soon to wake up…

The small Italian let out a whine as he opened his eyes; the flashing red numbers in the dark told the boy it was only a few minutes after three… in the morning. _Too early…_ Feliciano whimpered softly, wanting to go back to sleep. He was just so warm and comfortable and _sleepy_.

Thin arms wrapped around the pillow beneath his head, and Feliciano slowly breathed in the scent of the man he loved. "_Ludwig…_" Feliciano mumbled the man's name softly as he held the pillow tighter.

Ludwig has been gone for six months now; his boss had him traveling to so many countries and doing so much work that the German was to be gone for months. Before he left, Ludwig had promised Feliciano he would be home before Christmas… and Christmas was only a week away. Frowning, Feliciano thought back to the last time the two had spoken: Ludwig had sounded so stressed, and Feliciano spent the first hour of their phone call crying and fretting over the German. After Ludwig had successfully calmed down his bumbling lover, the two had spent the next two hours catching up on each other's lives; it was really mainly Feliciano listening to Ludwig unload all his frustrations with the other nations and his boss, which the Italian didn't mind at all! He liked it when Ludwig would go on and on ranting about things, because that way he was getting it all out and not keeping it inside. Their phone call went well into the night, some of the time spent in silence as the two just listened to the other breathe. Feliciano had chatted away as he cooked himself dinner, had joked flirtatiously as he soaked in the bath, and eventually had fallen asleep to the sound of Ludwig's deep, gentle voice humming a song by a composer whose name slipped the Italian's mind as he surrendered to sleep.

… That was three weeks ago.

Feliciano missed Ludwig so much. Talking to him on the phone- even for just a few minutes- always gave him some relief and happiness, but the last three weeks were just torture for the Italian. Sighing, Feliciano held the pillow to his cheek as he rolled over. He would have just closed his eyes once more to fall back asleep until the appropriate time to wake up… if it weren't for the large, muscular body he was now pressed against.

Honey dipped amber eyes widened as Feliciano realized who was in his bed, "Ludwig?" Feliciano raised a hand to gently touch the sleeping man's cheek to reassure himself that he wasn't dreaming, that he was awake. The feeling of warm, smooth skin beneath his palm made his heart leap and a wide smile spread across his face. The Italian sat up, hand still resting on Ludwig's cheek, as the luggage sitting next to the closet door caught his attention. _He must have just arrived! Maybe he didn't want to wake me? That's my Luddy…_ Feliciano pressed a sweet kiss to Ludwig's forehead before being slapped with realization.

_Nothing's ready for his return! The house isn't clean, there are no Christmas decorations up, and we're even out of beer and wurst! Oh no! I have to get everything ready before he wakes up!_

And with that, the naked Italian threw himself out of the bed, and it was only after his feet touched the cold wood floor did he remember not to wake the sleeping German. Looking back over his shoulder, he saw that Ludwig was deep in sleep. Smiling to himself and silently promising Ludwig he would be so happy when he woke up, Feliciano quickly skipped over to their shared closet and got dressed.

He didn't realize he had accidentally pulled on one of Ludwig's sweaters.

*.*

Feliciano had spent three hours cleaning the house and putting up Christmas decorations. Gilbert had come over earlier that week to help Feliciano put the tree up, and that very day was when all of Ludwig's beer had been depleted. Feliciano decided to wait on decorating the tree since it was their little tradition to decorate it together. Once all the tinsel was hanging around the house, the banister wrapped with garland and ribbon and bells, wreaths and hollies hanging on the walls, multi-colored lights wrapped around and hanging from multiple places, red and green and white candle placed about, and mistletoe hanging in the kitchen and near the fireplace, Feliciano headed out to the market. Since it was close to Christmas stores were opening earlier, and Feliciano knew he'd be able to beat the normal morning flood of customers.

Only an hour was spent at the market, and luckily a kind couple had offered to help Feliciano carry the multiple bags back home. After graciously thanking the happy couple and insisting they leave with the apple pie he had baked the previous night, Feliciano began with his cooking preparations. He wanted Ludwig to wake up to a great breakfast!

It wasn't too much longer until the end of the dining table where Ludwig always sat was covered with steaming plates of sausage, eggs, and pancakes, along with fresh fruit, assorted German breads, homemade jams, and a cheese plate. Stepping back and staring at the masterpiece before him, Feliciano suddenly felt a little hesitant; was this way too much food? Would Ludwig be able to eat at least a little bit of all of it?

"It'll be fine. We'll just have lots of leftovers!" Feliciano smiled and skipped back to the kitchen. He busied himself with putting away the rest of the groceries he had gotten.

It was nearing nine, and it was unusual for Ludwig to sleep in so late unless he and Feliciano had been up all night for one reason or another. _Maybe he's just really tired from all the traveling. I know I would be… _ Feliciano sighed as he put the ingredients for homemade gingerbread away. As he reached up into one of the top cabinets, stretching and standing on one foot to try and reach, he finally realized he had been wearing one of Ludwig's sweaters. Slowly he let his other foot down and brought his arm down to look at the sleeve. The Italian smiled as he saw it was Ludwig's favorite sweater, and Feliciano's favorite to see on the German. The blue, wool was nice and warm, and when the German wore it, the sweater fit his muscular physique perfectly. On the lithe Italian it was a little large, but Feliciano thought he looked sort of cute that way.

Giggling, Feliciano began preparing coffee for Ludwig, unknowingly humming one of the blonde's favorite classical pieces. His attention was fully on preparing the coffee in front of him, so he hadn't heard the slightly shuffling footsteps approaching.

"Feli…?"

Feliciano felt his heart sore at the sleep-filled voice, and he turned on his heel so quickly he almost knocked the coffee over, "LUDWIG!"

The Italian went running and collided with the German's chest as he hugged the man tightly, "I'm so happy you're back! You hadn't said anything about coming home a little early, so I didn't have anything ready for you. But it's okay now! I cleaned and decorated the house, and I went out grocery shopping, and oh! Breakfast is ready on the table for you! I covered it all so it would stay fresh for when you woke up. The coffee is almost ready. Oh, Luddy, I'm so happy you're home!"

Feliciano buried his face in his love's chest, missing the look of genuine love and affection on Ludwig's face, "I'm happy I'm home too, Feli. Why did you do all this? You didn't have to. You must have been awake for a while." His large hand gently caressed the Italian's hair, mindful of the curl.

"It's worth it as long as you're happy!" Feliciano smiled brightly up at the German, "I'm sorry it couldn't look this way when you got home. When did you get home?"

"A little before two. I didn't want to wake you up." Ludwig looked down at Feliciano and smiled, "I see you're wearing my sweater."

Feliciano blushed and tugged at the sleeves of the oversized sweater, "I didn't mean to. I was just so excited to see you when I woke up and I grabbed something without looking at it. Do you want me to take it off?"

"No, I like it on you." Ludwig smiled and glanced up. Feliciano furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as the German laughed, "You _would_ put mistletoe in the kitchen, Feli."

Feliciano looked up, and giggled as he saw the mistletoe hanging on the ceiling that he had struggled to put there, "We're standing under it, you know what that means." Feliciano gave Ludwig a bright smile.

"_Ja, ja_." Ludwig pulled Feliciano against his chest, one arm around his waist and the other on his cheek. Their lips pressed together in a loving peck, but six months of loneliness and awkward phone sex seemed to burst between their lips, and their loving peck turned into a hot, passionate kiss. Tongues tangled, hands groped, moans and groans sounded. Feliciano wanted to beg Ludwig to take him right there, in the kitchen; bend him over the counter and take him roughly, then carry him to their bedroom and make love to him. However, the smell of coffee wafted through the Italian's nose and reminded him that breakfast was waiting on the table. With a soft moan, he pulled his lips from Ludwig's; their breaths mingled between them as they panted, trying to catch their breaths. Feliciano splayed his fingers over Ludwig's bare chest, "Breakfast will get cold."

Ludwig pressed his forehead against the Italian's, "Just a minute more."

Feliciano felt tears well up in his eyes as he felt Ludwig's arms tighten around him. The German held him so tightly, as if he was afraid to let go of the Italian. Feliciano just enjoyed the tight embrace, his heart racing at the thought of Ludwig finally home, holding him.

"_Ich leibe dich,_ _mein schatz Italienisch_."

"_Ti amo, mio forte Tedesco_."

*.*

It wasn't too long until the lovers fell into their normal routine, as if Ludwig hadn't been gone for six months. After breakfast, they had put away the leftovers, and Ludwig set a fire in the fireplace. He had scolded the Italian for turning the heat up whilst he as gone, saying it was a waste and would run their bill up. Feliciano had fell back on the couch after turning the stereo on, the low instrumental music floating throughout the living room. Ludwig sat down beside him, glasses resting on his nose and a book in his hand. The two had fallen into comfortable silence, Ludwig reading and Feliciano sketching in his sketchbook. Feliciano had his feet lying in Ludwig's lap, his eyes kept glancing up at the blond through his thick lashes to mentally capture the sight of him reading. Feliciano's hand moved swiftly, effortlessly, precisely as he drew Ludwig reading. He's drawn the German countless amount of times, a lot of them were of him reading, but this was different. Feliciano hasn't seen the man he loves for _six months_, he just had to capture Ludwig in such a beautiful moment.

Feliciano shivered and buried himself further into the cushions on the couch. Ludwig noticed, and set his book aside to motion for the Italian to lay in his arms. Feliciano smiled and sat on Ludwig's lap, a soft giggle fell from his lips as Ludwig placed a blanket over the two of them before picking his book back up.

"Now I have to draw you from this angle!" Feliciano kissed Ludwig's cheek softly.

Before the Italian could pull his head away and go back to sketching, Ludwig cupped his cheeks and kissed his lips. The German set his book aside to rest his hand on the slim waist of the Italian on his lap, and Feliciano set his sketchbook on the floor so he could tangle his fingers into the blond hair of his lover.

Feliciano missed this; how close they were, how they bucked and pressed to be closer. The feel of Ludwig's smooth lips and callused fingers. The heat that traveled and mixed between the two of them. He missed it all, but most of all… he missed _Ludwig_.

Ludwig had Feliciano's clothes off within seconds, and he had the feminine body pressed back against the couch. Feliciano whined as Ludwig sat back to let his eyes wander over the body below him. Feliciano pouted, wanting to be touched and kissed by the German, but laid there until Ludwig was ready to continue. The way the fire that blazed only a few feet from them reflected in Ludwig's blue eyes, danced on the pale skin of his flesh caused Feliciano's breath to catch in his throat. Ludwig looked so angelic, so beautiful with the firelight cast over him.

Feliciano started crying.

Ludwig's expression turned into that of alarm, quickly leaning down to take Feliciano's cheeks into his hands, "What is it? What's wrong?"

Feliciano sniffed and placed his hands over Ludwig's, "I don't know. I guess I'm just so happy that you're home… I missed you so much… I hated sleeping alone. I'm just so happy… so happy I can hold you again."

Ludwig sighed but smiled, his lips pressed against the over-emotional Italian's forehead, "I'm sorry I left you alone for so long, Feli. Can I make it up to you?"

Feliciano saw the hungry look in his lover's eyes, but love shone brighter in those blue eyes that gazed down at him. Smiling, the Italian nodded his head, "Yes, yes make it up to me."

They made love by the fire. It was loving and passionate and gentle. Feliciano's cries had caused his throat to be sore, and he was beginning to lose his voice after hours of them being buried deeply within one another. The living room was filled with the sharp scent of sex and burning fire wood, but they were too far gone to notice anything but each other. The gentle music that floated around the room was silenced by the cries and screams and moans that fell from their lips. It was almost a surreal scene, a cliché; two lovers finally being reunited after being separated for so long, making love beside the burning fire that represented their love.

However surreal or clichéd it was, Feliciano loved every second of it…

They were going at it for the fifth- or was it the sixth?- time as Feliciano bounced his body on top of Ludwig's, feeling his stomach tighten as he watched Ludwig's face contort in pleasure. The Italian leant down and pressed his lips to Ludwig's, mumbling softly, "_Ti amo… Ti amo… Ti amo…_" He gasped as he felt the German sit up and press him down against the faux-fur rug. Ludwig began a rough pace, impatient with the slow, gentle pace they had been doing since they started. His shaky fingers gripped the Italian's curl, tugging on it once, twice. Feliciano cried out, back arching, fingers digging into Ludwig's biceps as the German thrust harshly against that sweetly abused spot deep within him and played with his sensitive curl. Feliciano felt so worn out, felt as if he couldn't orgasm again, but he wanted to keep going until Ludwig was done. No, he wanted to keep feeling this way forever. "_Di più,_ _di più,_ _di più!"_

Ludwig groaned above Feliciano, quickening his pace. The German moaned as he felt Feliciano tighten around him, "Feli… _Ficken…_ _Ich kann nicht…_ _lange…_"

"Luddy…" Feliciano moaned breathlessly, his eyes opening to look into blue eyes filled with lust and love.

Oh, how Feliciano missed Ludwig. He missed the way the German would wake up before him, shower and dress and have breakfast ready by the time he would wake. He missed the way the German would scold him when he did something wrong. He missed the way the German and himself would take the dogs for long walks. He missed the way the German and himself would cook and bake together. He missed the way the German would hold him during the night. He missed the way the German would blush at the silliest things. He missed the way the German would let all of his guards down, rid himself of the mask and be _himself_ when it was the two of them alone. He missed Ludwig…

Feliciano was just so happy that Ludwig finally came home. No matter how badly he missed the man he loved, he knew he'd always come home. Feliciano would be waiting for him always.

Well into the night the fire was nothing but crackling embers struggling to stay alive, the music long since ended, and the two lovers were embracing one another. Feliciano was struggling to stay awake. His body was sore and his voice nearly gone, but he couldn't imagine spending the day and most of the night doing anything different. He felt so happy, and that was all that mattered. He had just began to doze off, letting sleep win momentarily, when he felt himself being lifted from the ground, "Mmm…" He nuzzled his cheek into Ludwig's chest, kissing the smooth skin. His eyes were still closed as sleep began to overtake him again. The gentle swaying of his body as Ludwig walked up the steps and to their bedroom was lulling him to sleep. He felt his body being laid on the bed, the covers and duvet being pulled over him once the German was lying beside him. Just before he let sleep completely take him, he snuggled into Ludwig's warm chest and whispered quietly, "I love you, Ludwig. Welcome home."

**Okay, so I'm still working on the few requests I've gotten. I have a rough outline of the next few stores; UkUs, BelaPan, EngIta, ChuRo, FrUk, and a continuation of Fragile (Chapter 5). Not necessarily in that order. Don't forget! I love requests! It changes my writing and creative skills.**


	7. Pasta Kisses

Pairing: EngIta

Rating: T

Title: Pasta Kisses

* * *

His back was against a wall: Literally.

Italy had no way out of this predicament, and he so desperately wanted out of it. He was being pressured by both his boss and the Triple Entente to leave the Triple Alliance- to leave _Germany_- and join the Triple Entente. He didn't want to, didn't see the reason to… but he was being forced into it.

Wide, amber eyes stared frighteningly into raging blue oceans. Germany was _pissed_. No, he surpassed pissed when Italy had told him what his boss wanted him to do. Even though it was his country, his right to decide what was to happen, he had to follow the word of his boss first and foremost. So, when he had answered Germany's question of what was bothering him, he was prepared for his friend to be angry… but _this_?

The Italian gasped and struggled to pull the large hands from his neck, "G-Ge-!"

The German tightened his grip, yelling at the weak man in his native tongue; words were yelled at the smaller man that weren't registering, that didn't make sense.

It wasn't until Italy's struggling ceased, his limbs fell to his side limply, his face going from red to purple that the bigger, stronger man let go, watching as the brunet slid down the wall and crumpled on the ground.

Italy watched- eyelids drooping and vision blurring- as Germany walked away, not once looking back at the man he nearly killed. Italy was wheezing, gasping for breath, but he was struggling _so hard_ to stay awake. He just wanted to close his eyes, let the pain take over and give up…

So that's what he did…

*.*

A soft, familiar voice stirred Italy's mind and he began to pull himself from the darkness that surrounded him. He groaned softly as his head throbbed once, then again, and again. After the fifth time he gave up trying to open his eyes and remained lying still, listening to that soft, accented voice speaking.

"-too much. He needs to rest for now so he can be in the right mental state to sign the treaty."

"You're still wanting him to do that?" Another voice sounded, though this accent was different from the first. Thicker, heavier somehow, but this voice was just as familiar as the first. "He will be some help in this war, but maybe it's best to let him decide what he wants to do. He may want to withdraw from the war all together." There was slight hesitation in the voice before continuing on, "I've known him for so long now, and he isn't mentally strong enough for this war. He's too… young at heart to be able to handle all this. If he does agree to sign the treaty, I say we give him the land and just let him sit back and supply us with anything we need, besides him out on the battlefield."

A heavy sigh echoed in the room- Room? Was he in a room?- and the first voice started to speak again, "We'll just wait to sort this out when he wakes, then."

"I think he's already awake." A third voice nearly startled Italy.

"Oh?"

Italy's eyebrows stitched together as a cool hand touched his forehead in an almost affectionate manner. That hand felt very familiar. Who…?

"How are you feeling, _Italie_?"

Italy smiled as who it was touching and speaking to him became clear, "Big Brother France…"

"That's right, little one. How are you feeling?"

Italy slowly, cautiously, opened his eyes, wincing as a dull throb went through his head. Glancing around briefly, he saw France standing over him, England standing beside France, and Russia standing behind the two blondes. His eyes returned to France before answering, "Ve, my head hurts, and I feel a little dizzy."

France chuckled softly and spoke over his shoulder, "He'll be just fine. Now, Italy... do you remember what happened?"

Italy's face fell and his eyes looked down. It was then that he realized he was lying in a bed, a duvet covering him. The memory of Germany snapping when Italy told him what he was going to do played out clearly in his mind. He remembered the way Germany was yelling at him, face ablaze in anger. He remembered the way Germany hit him and shoved him against the wall, his large hands grabbing Italy's thin neck. _He remembered_… "Yes, I do…"

Italy heard a sigh- much like the one from earlier- and he glanced up at the men in the room with him.

"Well," England stepped back from the bed, eyes trained on Italy in a concerned gaze, "I guess we'll let you rest a while longer."

Russia quietly left the room, and after a few gentle French words and an affectionate kiss to the forehead France left the room as well. England stood a few feet away from the bed where Italy was laying. He seemed like he wanted to say something… but he just wasn't sure what. His mouth opened as if to speak, but he soon closed it after standing there for a few moments with it open. He turned to leave, and Italy felt panic jolt through him.

"Wait!" Italy thrashed under the duvet to sit up, to get out of the bed, but he ended up tangling himself in the fabric and tumbled out of the bed.

England scoffed, but in the manner a parent would when their child fell after being told to be careful, "Honestly…" He bent down to help the smaller man up to his feet, and pulled the duvet away from his thin body. Being the gentleman he was, he laid the duvet back on the bed and helped Italy to sit back down.

Italy was blushing and fidgeting with his hands as England looked down at him, "I… I'll sign the treaty."

"I don't want you to feel pressured into, Italy. Take some time to think it over." England said almost uncharacteristically. A genuine look of concern was portrayed on his face, a look that no one has ever seen- perhaps only America when he was younger.

Italy shook his head, "No. I know this is what I want."

England eyed Italy, trying to search for any sign of uncertainty in the Italian, but once he saw nothing, he nodded and smiled, "Alright. Once you're better we'll all get together to sign the treaty."

Italy smiled at the Englishman, then a thought struck him, "Ve, England. How did you know I was in trouble?"

England blushed and spluttered, the question catching him completely off guard. "W-Well, you hadn't answered us with your decision, and when he tried ringing your place, there was no answer. I was worr- _we_! No, _they_ were worried about you! Yes, that. So we- _they_ decided to go to your place and check in on you. It's not like I cared or was worried." England started laughing, trying to act as if he hadn't been worried about the Italian.

Italy smiled, "Ve, you're very kind, England!"

England cleared his throat and looked away from the brunet, still blushing, "Yes, well… I'm a gentleman after all. Well, if you're all set, I think I'll take my leave n-"

"N-No! Please!"

The transition from happy to desperate in the Italian was instantaneous, almost seemingly impossible. England, once again, was taken aback by the Italian. The desperateness in his voice and eyes almost caused his heart to break, "What is it, Italy?"

"W-Well…" Italy fidgeted with his hands, twirling his fingers together and avoiding direct eye contact with the blond, "Ve… Do you think you could… um… stay with me?"

England wondered if Italy knew how childish he was coming off as. Nearly everything about the Italian was childlike. The way he spoke, the way he perceived things, the way he acted. He was the epitome of childlike. How could England deny such innocence? Smiling, he sat on the bed beside Italy and covered the smaller hand with his, "Alright."

"_Grazie_!" Italy smiled at England, "Ve, where are we?"

"France's house." England leaned back slightly, emerald eyes still trained on the Italian's face, "It was better to bring you here rather than Russia's or my place."

"So, there's a kitchen here?"

England snorted, "Of course there's a kitchen. Don't be so daft."

Italy blushed, "Sorry… Ve, England, you think Big Brother France would mind if I made something to eat?"

"I'm sure he wouldn't. Would you like for to me help you?" England stood from the bed, however his hand was still holding Italy's. Neither man seemed to notice.

Italy pouted, remembering all the stories he heard about England's horrible cooking, "Ve, that's okay. You don't have to. Oh! I can show you how to make pasta!" The Italian jumped to his feet in excitement, and the sudden tug he gave England's hand caused the blond to fall over, knocking Italy back down on the bed with him laying on top of him. It was then the two men noticed their still connecting hands.

"S-Sorry." England's face was- as Spain would say- as red as a tomato. He pushed himself off of Italy, the blush spread down his neck and up his ears as their hips pressed together. He all but jumped away from the Italian, straightening his clothes and looking anywhere _but_ the brunet still lying on the bed.

Italy giggled as he got off the bed, "Let's go make pasta!"

*.*

England was a little amazed at the talent the Italian boy truly had for cooking. He knew Italy was known for his cooking, but this boy truly had a gift. Even if it was something as simple as pasta, the amount of time and care he put into making it, adding in extra ingredients, was pretty astounding. Whenever England made pasta he just threw in the noodles and the sauce into boiling water and hoped for the best. It was kind of… cute the way Italy was showing England what to do, guiding his hands as they went through the steps.

The two sat at the small table in the kitchen as they waited for everything to heat up. Italy was humming a happy little tune to himself, feet swaying under the table. England simply watched him. He really was adorable… He may be a little annoying at times, but Italy was really cute…

The timer went off and Italy leapt to his feet, "It's ready!" He pulled England over to the stove with him and guided him through pouring the noodles in a strainer and mixing the sauce and noodles once all the water was drained out. Italy added a few pinches of extra spices and handed England a nice big bowl.

England sat down and tentatively took a bite of the mouth-watering pasta before him. _Wow_. "Blow me."

Italy dropped his bowl on the table, luckily none of the pasta spilled out of it. He looked at England with wide eyes and a slight look of shock and discomfort, "U-Uh… s-sorry? W-What?"

England blushed as he remembered that his 'slang' wasn't too well known by the other nations, "Ah, it's a slang term for being surprised." Wanting desperately to rid the room of the awkward air that now filled it, he proceeded to speak, "I've always heard that your cooking is astounding, but hearing such praise and tasting it firsthand are two different things. It just took me a bit by surprise just how delicious your cooking really is."

Italy blushed as he smiled at England, "_Grazie._" Italy sat down in his chair, feeling a little silly for taking England's exclamation as a dirty request. He looked up at the handsome man as he began eating, watching for several minutes as the Englishman ate with such refined etiquette. Were the stories Big Brother Spain had told him about England being a mean, nasty pirate true? With the man acting so proper in front of him now, he could hardly believe the stories he's heard about all the pillaging, burning, and alleged raping the Englishman had done in his pirate days. "Ve, England?"

"Hmm?" England looked up at the Italian, only to be met with the boy's face only centimeters from his own.

Italy smiled as he saw England's emerald eyes widen. He quickly gave the man a kiss on the lips, smiling as he tasted the pasta on the man's tongue as he playfully slid his own between England's lips before pulling away. "_Mangiare!_"

England gaped speechlessly at the Italian sitting across from him, eating as if he hadn't just kissed him in such a cock-teasing way. Sighing, he let his lips twist up in a small smile as he watched the Italian.

_He is quite cute, isn't he? Maybe this treaty will be a good thing after all._

**Yay! Another chapter for the day! This was a request from ShotaLuv4ever! I decided to take the cutesy road for this pairing because it just felt right. Hope you enjoyed!**


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